Luxurious Lies
by M. Rhae
Summary: What if Lyra had stayed with Mrs. Coulter in Bolvangar? What if things had turned out differently? How might a change of wording affect their relationship? A different take on the revelation of Mrs. Coulter's true identity. In-progress.
1. Prevailing Pretenses

**Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Material series or any correlating elements.**

A/N: Bonjour, everyone. Here's the start of a little drabble about a different and perhaps more aware Mrs. Coulter. Little things could have changed the plot entirely, and here's a look into one of those potential changes.

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_**o1.**_

_**Prevailing Pretenses**_

Watching the girl play with her chapped, dry hands, her ermine daemon nibbling nervously on her left ear, Mrs. Coulter wondered how she had ever doubted the strength of her daughter.

On that fateful day back in Oxford, Mrs. Coulter had made the ultimate decision due to mere doubt of everything. She had ignored and pretended to forget about her daughter, but something – some strange, foreign sensation – had caused her to reconsider this absence. As the infamous captor of children, she was mean and wicked, but with each child snatched, there came an internal consequence.

_You _have a daughter, she would tell herself, freezing as the children pressed against the soft comfort of her furs. _You _are a mother.

But sitting there on the chair across from the said daughter, Mrs. Coulter didn't feel any better about herself. On the contrary, she wondered what she was doing by taking all of these extremes to help her, and she wondered if the child even realized what was being done. Children, it seemed, never appreciate or understand anything. They take what they please, and they give nothing in return; they live for themselves, and they die for no one.

Lyra, of course, was no different. She had spited Mrs. Coulter by disobeying and abandoning her, and she had naturally stirred a mountain of trouble by possessing the dreadful alethiometer. Even now, as Mrs. Coulter rescued her from the breath of death and disparity, she won't even look at her. Had she been raised with no manners or dignity?

"Lyra, dear, will you please look up at me?" False pretenses in place, Mrs. Coulter gazed at the girl as her blue eyes – the same shade as her own – glared fiercely up at her. "I know you've just been through a terrible ordeal, darling." She paused to allow some hurt to enter her eyes. "But it won't ever happen to you, and I promise that you'll always be safe with me. Please don't ever worry, my love."

As she reached forward to place a hand on Lyra's head and to pull her into a soothing embrace, it happened.

"You're my mother, en't you."

Mrs. Coulter froze mid-hug, her eyes wide as she stared down at her daughter.

For a moment, no one said anything. Mrs. Coulter was genuinely shocked, and deep down, she felt a bubbling surge of betrayal and anger. This child, _her _child, was staring up at her as if she had never been more disgusted. Leaning back to sit up straight in her chair, Mrs. Coulter heard the growl of the girl's daemon and the snarl of her own. She glanced at Lyra's tightly-curled fists, and finally, she glanced at her trembling, confused, twelve year-old face.

"How did you find out?" she finally whispered, her eyes locked on her daughter's expressions.

"The Gyptians," she murmured, her voice strong yet cracking. "They told me all about you and Lord Asriel and the Church. And they also said how you didn't want nothing to do with me."

As she finished, the slightest bit of a tremor surfaced in Lyra's voice. It was small, but it was there, building up like residue.

And as Mrs. Coulter stared at her, noting the hesitation and doubt that flickered through the girl's eyes, she _felt _something. Looking at her daughter, at how scared yet brave she was, Mrs. Coulter couldn't believe what she was feeling. In a way, she almost felt _bad _for her. She must feel so lonely and afraid, yet there she was blatantly throwing things out into the open. Mrs. Coulter was aware that she had grown in the ways of the wild and as an unruly, foul-mouthed tomboy, but nothing, not even independence and survival with the filthy Gyptians in the North, could prepare a child for an emotional blow such as this.

And as Mrs. Coulter sat there, staring at the revelation of her maternal role, she felt something that almost resembled _guilt._

_ You fool! _The golden monkey thought to her, his tail thrashing wildly. _You soft-hearted fool!_

Brushing him aside, Mrs. Coulter leaned forward slightly and looked directly into Lyra's eyes.

"So where does this leave us?" she asked, keeping track of Pan's twitches and Lyra's blinks. "You've heard the story, but what do we do about it?"

Returning her mother's stare, Lyra's mouth twisted slightly. "I dunno," she admitted, her voice almost inaudible. Pan changed into a tabby cat, and Lyra's eyes went from defiant to unsure.

And of course, with the passing of a second, Mrs. Coulter knew what she had to do. Her own eyes softened and she slowly bent towards Lyra and touched the edge of her hand. Surprisingly, she didn't flinch.

"Darling, I know how hard this must be for you." With the return of Lyra's glare, Mrs. Coulter shook her head, smiling sadly. "No, no. I really do. I've dealt with strange, sudden feelings for the past twelve years of my life. And for the past three months of my life, I've faced the strongest of them all."

Lyra's head tilted to the side, and a look of profound fascination followed. The golden money screeched, and Mrs. Coulter kicked him before smiling again, gently caressing her daughter's hand. "I know it'll be hard for you believe, but I've never stopped thinking about you, Lyra."

"You'd never came to see me," the girl interjected, her eyes now wide and blissfully innocent. "I was there in the college all by myself, and you never even cared."

"But I did, my love. I contemplated visiting you nearly every day for the first year of your life. But your father had arranged it so that you were safe and happy, and he had also arranged it so that I wouldn't be permitted to see you."

"You could've came if you really wanted to." Lyra's eyes hardened again. "Lord Asriel still came to see me. It was only you that was gone."

Her hand still drawing soft lines on the top of Lyra's, Mrs. Coulter didn't look up at her. "I know."

"All's you wanted to do was be with them Magisterium people." Lyra's voice grew stronger now, and Mrs. Coulter sensed her sitting up straighter. "You wanted to be important, and you wanted to go North. Lord Asriel did too, but he'd still came to see me. And you could've done it too."

"But would I have visited you when you were under the impression that I was dead?" Finally lifting her head up, Mrs. Coulter's face was a mirror of her daughter's. "You have to understand the delicacies of things, Lyra. Your father had really placed me in a rather unpleasant predicament, and I had no choice."

"Everyone's got a choice," Lyra grunted, but she looked down at the ground. Pan changed back into an ermine, and he crawled into her lap.

"To a certain extent," Mrs. Coulter continued, watching her. The girl's shoulders had slumped down, and she stared fixedly at the floor. "Things happen, and we must live with the consequences." Mrs. Coulter's stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt, and she ignored the rays of loathing she received from the golden monkey. "But the only important matter at hand, Lyra, is that I'm here now."

At this, Lyra's head snapped up to gaze directly into her mother's eyes.

"I've done a lot of bad things, but there's at least one thing I can change." Very carefully, Mrs. Coulter bent forward again to brush away a stray strand of Lyra's dark golden hair. "I tried to save you once, and I've luckily just saved you again. There's no denying that you are mine, and as much as you have defied me, there's no denying that I am still willing to take you."

Mrs. Coulter's eyes stared back into its smaller counterparts, and the girl before her tilted her head again, thinking.

_What are you doing? _thought the monkey with a hiss. He climbed on the back of Mrs. Coulter's chair, and he leered at Pan. _Have you not given up hope on trying to tame this beast of flesh?_

Shaking her head ever so slightly, Mrs. Coulter waited for Lyra's response.

It was obvious that Lyra was in no position to make that choice, but nonetheless, Mrs. Coulter had grudgingly learned from her mistakes. Though the child is hers and belongs to her in every right, she must _think _that she has a choice; she must _choose _to consider all options and alternatives. Mrs. Coulter was taking her either way, but in this slight moment of time, she had used her charms of manipulation to their fullest potential.

She had scared the girl away once, but with a second, redemptive opportunity, she was not to do so again. She was to win her over and claim her child, and she was to finally receive the natural, automatic obedience and revere that she ultimately always had but that she truly deserved from this particular child.

Frowning slightly, Lyra opened her mouth to speak.

But at that moment, the door burst open, and there stood a man with thick, ragged furs and a sleek, powerful snow leopard.


	2. Troubling Truths

**Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Material series or any correlating elements.**

A/N: Hi everyone! Here is the second chapter of the story. I actually had a dream about the last half, so I thought that I'd fit it into the plot. I'm sorry if it seems off-topic, but it's probably an issue that would have to be addressed. Hopefully more to come! This is just the beginning of my ideas :) Thanks for reading!

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_o2._

_Troubling Truths  
_

"I see."

Those two, cutting words – more like two blades of sheer, shameless ice – pierced through Mrs. Coulter's flesh as she slowly turned to stare at the six-footed figure dripping with the wild of the arctic. His dark russet hair, which glowed luminous in the soft naphtha lighting, was ruffled from the wind, and his face burned red and heated from the flush of civilization. Vaguely, Mrs. Coulter wondered how long he had been isolated from human society. By the looks of his nasty, gnarled beard, it had been quite a while.

But also, she wondered how hard it was for him to rush back in from the wild. With the golden monkey growling in her ear, Mrs. Coulter wondered what had made him do it so quickly, and she wondered why he would care about his formerly half-neglected daughter. Ultimately, she wondered why he had ever even cared about the two of them at all. She felt a growl of her own loom in the pits of her soul.

The snow leopard, whose shoulder blades stuck out of their haunches as she sauntered forward, gave Mrs. Coulter the most malicious of all disapproving glares. The golden money hissed, and the leopard growled. Mrs. Coulter couldn't help but sneer.

And finally, Mrs. Coulter raised her gaze to meet that of the dauntless explorer. Dark, blazing eyes met fierce, sparkling blue, and for a moment, Mrs. Coulter was lost in the rage along with the strange exhilaration that shook her from her very core.

"Uncle Asriel?"

Mrs. Coulter's concentration was broken. Snapping her head around, she stared at her daughter. Lyra's head was tilted to the side as she gazed over at her father. Her daemon changed into a golden owl, and together, they stepped forward slightly. In the soft glow of the lighting, Mrs. Coulter noticed that they almost looked like shimmering gold – almost like herself.

"Lyra. It's good to see you in full health." Lord Asriel's eyes momentarily flashed at Mrs. Coulter. "I'm happy to say that your time here is done. Now collect your things and follow me out."

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Coulter rushed to her feet, anger and hatred oozing from her like venom. This man had haunted her life for the past twelve years, and now that she finally had power and prestige of her own, she wasn't going to settle for his domineering demeanor. "How dare you give orders in my chambers? May I remind you of where you are?"

"My dear Marisa," snarled Lord Asriel, a strange gleam in his eye, "I believe that I know exactly where I am and that I know exactly what you do. And I daresay that Lyra does too. Am I right?"

Oh, what a clever move. Bring in Lyra to finish the blow. Her eyes swiveling to gaze at Lyra, Mrs. Coulter noticed how utterly confused and torn the girl appeared to be. Moments earlier, she had opened her mouth to reply to Mrs. Coulter's "offer" of taking her in. What she had started to say had been lost with the swinging of the door, but now, new words formed at the tip of her little, silver tongue.

"Uncle Asriel, I… I've just been talking to Mrs. Coulter here."

"Obviously," the man snorted, rolling his eyes. "Now get a move on, child! We must leave at once!"

"Let her finish!" Mrs. Coulter snapped, rounding on him.

"Yeah, I en't done!" Lyra added, her eyes fierce yet flecked with uncertainty.

Sighing, Lord Asriel took off his hat and slipped out of his furs, leaving them to drop and leak filthy water all over Mrs. Coulter's floor. Men, like children, seem to never care about anyone but themselves.

"Lyra, explain to him what happened," said Mrs. Coulter gently. She retreated back to the bed as Lyra advanced forward, her head again tilted in wonder. "Just tell him everything you wish to speak of."

As the child nodded and walked forward, something fell off of the bed from where she had been laying. Not looking at Asriel, who had Lyra's full and undivided attention, Mrs. Coulter bent forward to retrieve the fallen object. The golden monkey hissed in her ear, and Mrs. Coulter turned it around to stare at the front cover. It was Lyra's diary.

She didn't really know what made her do it. Seeing that Lyra was too busy with her _father _to notice, Mrs. Coulter flipped the book open and read some page in the beginning. She started to scan the sloppy text, and her blue eyes narrowed. A part of her frowned at the horrid penmanship, wondering why she hadn't taught Lyra the proper way to write, but most prominently, a part of her heart began to pound with each and every word.

_This is a nice book that Mrs. Coulter gave me today. It's newer than everything I'd ever had. I hope I don't get it too dirty. She said she was gonna teach me how to write notes and letters and stuff, and I'm just really happy. She's so nice to me. I wonder why?_

For a moment, Mrs. Coulter smiled.

_Mrs. Coulter is really keeping me busy. I don't know what to do half of the time. I thought I was busy and important back in Jordan, but Mrs. Coulter is REALLY busy and important. She knows weird smelling men and soft smiling woman, and they're kind of scary when they act all nice and ask you how you are doing and all. I never say anything, and Mrs. Coulter just smiles and says stuff for me while rubbing my back. She knows. I wish I could live with her forever._

The golden monkey screeched, but Mrs. Coulter ignored him, shunning him aside for the moment. Even if it was only for a small while, there was a time that Lyra had felt safe with her. Lyra had looked to her for guidance, and she had fallen willingly into her wings; she had admired her position and connections, and maybe, just maybe, she had admired her as a mother figure.

_ I'm getting sick of all this training and crap. When are we ever going to go North? Mrs. Coulter is just keeping me like a pet._

A little later: _I'm gonna get out of here. She don't know what's best for me, and she en't gonna tell me what to do all the time._

As Lyra continued to speak with her father, Mrs. Coulter's heart drummed faster and her eyebrows dragged closer as she read on, skipping to parts in the middle.

_Stuck in the lower decks today. The Gyptians are making me stay under cause Mrs. Coulter has them Magisterium people looking for me on ships. I really hate it under here. Why does she keep trying to gobble me up?_

On another page: _She sent some spy thing to get me. We got one, but the other got away. I hope it doesn't tell her where we're at. I'm really scared that she'll come take me._

Skipping forward a few pages,

_The Gyptians told me everything. Uncle Asriel is really my father, and Mrs. Coulter, she's my mother. Only she en't. _

Mrs. Coulter inhaled sharply, some strange sort of sensation forming a lump in her throat.

_Real mothers don't leave their kids behind. Real mothers stay with them and take care of them and stuff from when they was a baby, not when they're older and locked up in a college. She should've took care of me my whole life, but she didn't. That en't what a mother would do._

Feeling her eyes start to grow hot and irritated, Mrs. Coulter turned to the last page of the book.

_She's here. I saw her get off the zeppelin. I don't know what I'm gonna do. I'm so scared that I can't eat or sleep. She's gonna find me, and I just know something bad is going to happen. I need to get out of here and save these kids before she kills them all. We need to get away from her._

"What are you doing?"

With a start, Mrs. Coulter closed the book and jumped, meeting the blaze of her daughter. Lyra, whose blue eyes were glazed with confusion and then smeared with recognition, fear, and anger, edged closer to her mother. Pan changed into a pole cat, hissing at her ankles. Regaining her composure and smoothing her skirt, Mrs. Coulter finally let her emotions boil into the betrayal and frustration that had been building up inside of her.

"It is none of your concern," she said coldly, pointedly tossing the diary on the bed. Lyra's gaze followed it, and for a moment, she truly looked afraid and vulnerable.

"But that's my –"

"I know exactly what it is, and I daresay I know exactly how you really feel."

"Now Marisa –"

"_You _stay out of it, Asriel." Turning to Lord Asriel, Mrs. Coulter took a threatening step forward, brought to her full height and power. "This is between my daughter and I. I'll admit that I haven't been the best mother for the majority of her life," (Lord Asriel snorted) "but I have every intention of starting now."

"Oh really?" Lord Asriel advanced forward, his eyes sparkling dangerously.

"Yes," said Mrs. Coulter, leering into his dark slits of eyes. "Lyra is mine, and I am going to keep her with me." She glanced over at Lyra, who was trying to look at both of them at the same time. Her gaze then returned to Lord Asriel. "Regardless of what you say, she is coming with me."

With a light cackle, Lord Asriel smiled and his daemon snarled. "We'll see about that, Marisa."


	3. Daring Dash

**Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Material series or any correlating elements.**

****Hi everyone! Here's the third chapter. Hopefully more to come quickly! Thank you to everyone that reviewed and sent a pm! You're all so kind. :) Have a good one!

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_**o3.**_

_**Daring Dash  
**_

Her eyes fire, Mrs. Coulter walked forward. The golden monkey chimed in her ear, and she gave the slightest indication of a nod. She knew what she had to do.

Lord Asriel tensed as she approached him, but he didn't move. Calm, arrogant, and simply exhausted, he wouldn't bother to obstruct her path. The heretical-minded fool always underestimated her prowess. Even to this day, he held a bit of a soft spot for Mrs. Coulter. That would inevitably come back to haunt him. Mrs. Coulter smirked at the fact.

"What are you doing, Marisa?" he asked irritably as she continued to walk past him and over to her wardrobe. Saying nothing, Mrs. Coulter pulled open the doors and then rummaged around to the right side. She felt Lord Asriel's eyes bore into her back, and she knew she had only a few moments before his common sense and suspicion would get the best of him.

Twisting around to stare directly into his now alert and wary eyes, she pressed a button and said "You'll regret this, Asriel."

A caterwauling alarm split the atmosphere and red light spilled in from the crack beneath the door to the hallway. In a flash, Lord Asriel dashed to the wardrobe and grabbed Mrs. Coulter from the front of her shirt. "What did you do? What's going to happen?"

Dirty hands smudged Mrs. Coulter's delicate beige blouse, and she snarled before spitting at his face. How dare he assault her? _She _was the one with control of the situation!

Removing a hand to wipe her saliva away, Lord Asriel lowered his hand from Mrs. Coulter's shirt to her wrist, which he gripped tightly. "And _you _shall regret that even more."

Before she could react, Lord Asriel was dragging Mrs. Coulter to her bed. For the first time, genuine fear surged through Mrs. Coulter's system, and she thrashed and struggled as hard as she could. The golden money, stuck in the strong grip of Stelmaria's bite, let out an ear-splattering screech. Together, the two writhed beneath their captors, desperate to regain control. Mrs. Coulter had never felt more humiliated. She would never forgive Asriel for that.

"Don't you fret," the wild man sneered, throwing her on the bed and then lunging to the side to take a hold of Lyra. "I wouldn't even bother with the likes of you."

As he turned towards the door, Lyra flailing in his grasp, a new sensation overcame Mrs. Coulter.

For the third time in her life, she feared for someone other than herself. The world seemed to stop, and life seemed to swirl all around her; her heart began to beat out of control, and all of her senses sharpened to an intense clarity. She watched as her former lover and her daughter's father attempted to take away all that Mrs. Coulter had left. Time seemed to stall as she felt a glimpse of what life would be like without Lyra.

And as if in a dream, Mrs. Coulter rose to her feet and then flew forward. She shook away that cold, empty feeling, and with all of her might, she flung herself on the man with the ragged furs.

"You – are – not – taking – my – daughter!" she howled, giving him a blow to the head that caused him to stop and sway on the spot. Again, he had underestimated the capabilities of a desperate woman. "My officers will be here any minute, and they'll throw you back in prison where you belong!"

With another mighty punch to Lord Asriel's head, Mrs. Coulter reached forward and pulled Lyra to her and out of his grasp. She then shoved her backwards, and she gasped as Lord Asriel tackled her to the ground and knocked the wind out of her. She had never been hurt by him before, and her heart along with her body underwent a small moment of shock.

Clearing her head, she scratched at his face and forced him to turn away from her, giving her the advantage that she needed. Curling her leg back as far as it would go, she kicked it forward to his lower abdomen and listened triumphantly as he yelled out in pain and fury. Bowling over, he slid off of her, and Mrs. Coulter sat up to glare coldly as he suffered. She realized that there was a time where she would have dropped everything to help him, to hold him, to comfort him. But now, she understood how things were. With a growl from her daemon, Mrs. Coulter accepted the fact that any spark uniting her and Lord Asriel was diminished with the threat of taking Lyra away from her.

"Mrs. Coulter, what –"

"Not now, darling." Mrs. Coulter was up in a flash, making her way towards her daughter. "Just start packing your things into your bag and get ready to leave. Come on now."

As Lyra stood there, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Mrs. Coulter sensed a shred of suspicion and uncertainty flicker through her system. Snorting inwardly, Mrs. Coulter put a hand on the side of her face and lifted her eyes to gaze directly into hers. She didn't have time for this. "You're going to have to trust me, my love. Please, just get your clothes and possessions so we can leave. I promise that I'll explain everything."

For a moment, Mrs. Coulter thought the little brat was going to refuse. Her eyes gleamed defiantly, and a look of pure rebellion smeared her childish features. But then Mrs. Coulter followed her gaze over to Lord Asriel, who was still on the floor but who seemed to be recovering. Mrs. Coulter's eyes widened in fear, and upon looking back at Lyra, she caught her staring intently at her. Understanding seemed to dawn inside her blue depths.

"Let's go!" Mrs. Coulter urged, taking a traveling bag beside her bed. It was already packed and ready to go with food, money, and clothes to last for a week or so. She turned her attention to Lyra, who was struggling to find her things since Mrs. Coulter had taken them out to dry and clean. She hurried over to the bathroom and snatched up all of her clothing, returning to roughly shove them in Lyra's sack. The girl stepped back and let her do it, wonder glazed in her eyes.

"Take your coat!" Mrs. Coulter ordered, jumping as Lord Asriel started to stir. It wouldn't be long before he'd leap back up and take her down again, though this time knocking her out cold. This was her and Lyra's only chance.

Not waiting for her to put it on, Mrs. Coulter took Lyra's hand and ran over to the door. Ushering Lyra ahead, she slammed the door shut and then fiddled in her bag for a key. She heard movement beyond the mahogany barrier, and she quickly thrust the key into its hole and turned it to the right. Her heart beating, Mrs. Coulter paused. Her daemon ran a hand along the side of her face, and she let out the breath she was holding. She was temporarily safe.

"Mrs. Coulter?" Lyra called, halting at the end of the hallway. She exchanged a look with her daemon, and Mrs. Coulter's heart stopped.

They were going to flee. She could tell by the way Pan gazed longingly for the door. She had saved her from the dangers of Lord Asriel, but she had failed to secure her for herself. What a fool she was!

But on the contrary, Lyra waited as Mrs. Coulter bolted over to her. She felt a flaring pang of relief and appreciation.

"Are the police really gonna go arrest Uncle Asriel?" Mrs. Coulter paused to hear the pounding of approaching footsteps, and she stepped to the side and guided Lyra with her.

"Yes," she murmured, putting her arm around the girl's shoulders and watching as a group of officers came into view, their weapons out and their faces alarmed. Mrs. Coulter merely nodded towards the door to her bedroom, which was now being smacked and shoved fiercely. The head of the patrol nodded before charging over to it, his men following.

"Let's go somewhere private to speak, darling." She turned Lyra away and began to head towards the main entrance.

"But where?" Lyra asked, trying to crane her neck to see the men fighting with her father.

Mrs. Coulter gently turned her head back around, stroking a few strands of her dark golden hair. As the golden monkey and Pan strode side-by-side, and as Mrs. Coulter stared down at her daughter, she realized how utterly brave Lyra was. No child she knew could have gone through the previous turmoil so calmly and obediently. Maybe she had been too hard on her earlier in the evening; maybe she hadn't given her a chance.

"I don't really know," Mrs. Coulter answered softly, holding on to Lyra a little tighter. She was there, and more importantly, she was there because she _wanted _to be. "But wherever we go, I promise you that we'll safe. You'll always be safe with me."


	4. Wondrous Weasel

**Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Materials series or any correlating elements.  
**

Bonjour, tout le monde! Here's a little section of the story. I'm currently writing the part after this, so I will try and have that up sooner than later. I thought it'd be interesting to try out the POV of someone other than Mrs. Coulter, though for only a short while. :) Enjoy!

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_**o4.**_

_**Wondrous Weasel**_

Five burly men slammed into him, pinning him to the ground. "Don't move. You are under arrest."

Wincing, Lord Asriel glanced to his side to see the officers snatch his traveling sack and rummage through its contents. Stelmaria growled and made an attempt to grab it, but she was silenced by a stout Irish Setter daemon. She dug her teeth into Stelmaria's scruff, and the snow leopard let out a menacing snarl as she fumbled to her belly. As much as it killed her to admit it, she had been overpowered, and she and Lord Asriel felt that burning sense of shame and acceptance as the men surrounded them and motioned for them to rise.

Glancing from man-to-man and dog-to-dog, Lord Asriel knew that he was trapped. But as he slowly straightened out and rose to his feet, his hands high in the air, he knew that it wasn't over. As commendable as they were, these men were merely peons in the greater scheme of the Magisterial Armed Force. They all looked barely twenty years of age, and as the leading officer pointed his gun at him, Lord Asriel noticed the slightest bit of a tremor in the shining silver.

"Gentlemen," Lord Asriel greeted, dipping his head in their general direction. "I must congratulate you on an attack well-executed. But may I inquire as to why you are here?"

"We received the alarm, sir," stammered the smallest officer, his eyes growing round. "Someone pulled it, and Mrs. Coulter told us to come get you. You are under arrest."

"But for what, may I ask?"

This had them. The men's eyes swiveled to each other's, and Lord Asriel suppressed a laugh as the head officer noticeably swallowed a lump in his throat. Stelmaria purred, and the two exchanged a knowing glance. If anything was to save them, it would be their wits.

In all of their forty-four years of life, they've never been unable to weasel out of an unfavorable situation. At the ripe age of five, Lord Asriel had convinced his mother that his father had taken the large sum of money hidden in the wardrobe and that his new astrology kit had been a gift from his school for being so bright. Ten years later at fifteen, he had persuaded Jordan College to admit him while still in secondary school, and after a few years of acing exams and winning over the scholars, he had successfully received all of his payments back with the promise to pursue research in the college's name.

Even as he traveled and explored the Western and Northern worlds, nothing had ever been able to stand in his way. He had a bigger build, though he wasn't thick or overweight. He was a bit thin with his ragged furs and under-nourished arctic diet, but nonetheless, Lord Asriel knew what kind of impression he left on people.

But also, perhaps more importantly, he recognized the influence of his only worthy competitor. With her soft, caressing touches, brilliant, mesmerizing eyes, sweet, musical voice, and gentle, powerful aura, Marisa Coulter had captivated these men into defending her with their lives.

And as Lord Asriel stood there amongst these confused, heart-pounding men, he knew that his only chance would be to unravel Marisa's tie and replace it with his own, though he admitted that it might prove to be impossible.


	5. Dubious Doubts

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _His Dark Materials _series or any correlating elements.**

Bonjour, everyone! I'm sorry that it's been a while, but here's the fifth installment of the story! I've been finding it hard to get into the right sort of motivation and attitude to write this part. I'm really trying maintain the sort of strange, precarious balance between Mrs. Coulter's feelings for Lyra and for her own intrinsic motives, so please let me know if I'm either straying from this path or managing to balance it! Thanks for reading, and have a good day :)

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_**o5.**_

_**Dubious Doubts**_

"Yes, Dr. Cooper? Please arrange a sled for Trollesund to set out immediately."

Mrs. Coulter's eyes gleamed as she held the gold-encrusted telephone to her ear, the cord entangled in her long, auburn furs. Her free hand clasped the bony edge of Lyra's shoulder, and the golden monkey entwined his tail with Pan's. Lyra was shaking slightly, but Mrs. Coulter didn't really know why. She _was _safe, after all, and as Mrs. Coulter pulled her daughter to her side, she wondered if Lyra felt guilty or sad about Lord Asriel's arrest. It would be a ridiculous emotion, of course, but one very plausible for a twelve year-old girl.

"I am very well aware of the time," Mrs. Coulter snapped, her blue eyes now hard as she glared at the telephone. "I need a sled to Trollesund, and I need it now. Is there some sort of complication preventing this arrangement, Doctor? Are you trying to tell me that you're not effectively doing your _job_?" The monkey screeched, and as Mrs. Coulter listened to Dr. Cooper's profuse apologies, she let her mind start to wander.

It was only natural for him to worry about why she needed a sled at one o'clock in the morning. Shouldn't a woman be tucked away in her chambers at that time of night? Shouldn't she be poised and pleasant as she goes about her business? But more importantly, why would a woman need to leave a fully secure, maintained location of which she runs? Why would she be taking a single child with her? And why would it be so _imminent_?

In all sincerity, what _was _she doing? Mrs. Coulter didn't know, and even if she would admit it or not, it bothered her. This strange, new sensation seemed to be ripping away all that she's ever known, and even though a part of her flinched and winced at the rash, braze decisions, reckless, impulsive actions, and foreign, estranged motivations, the other part of her didn't mind. It recognized this to be true and just; it recognized this to be the only _real _thing she's ever known or done.

"Trollesund?"

"Yes, darling," said Mrs. Coulter, clearing her head. She moved the girl along by gently pushing her forward, taking care not to push too hard. "We need to get going. Now."

To Mrs. Coulter's relief, her daughter didn't bombard her with a myriad of defiant, demanding questions, and they made their way out of the central office without too much fuss. As they continued down the main hallway and then rounded the corner of a side corridor, they approached the canteen.

Out of an adjacent door came a small group of children, their scrawny bodies draped in clean, second-hand clothing and their drooping eyes round and fearful. Halting, Mrs. Coulter watched their diminished, shivering figures, and as they stepped out into the hallway, they all turned to look over at her.

"It's _her_!"

"There she is!"

"I knew she'd stay with u –"

"I thought she sai –"

"I want my mummy!" A little girl of around seven or eight broke from the line and came running over to Mrs. Coulter, her light brown eyes brimming with tears. Stunned, Mrs. Coulter felt the pathetically thin figure wrap around her waist, clinging for life.

It was a very strange and remarkable feeling. A gentle sort of tenderness overcame Mrs. Coulter at that moment, much to the golden monkey's dismay. Slowly moving her arms to hold the child's head and place a hand on her back, for a moment, Mrs. Coulter felt like a mother again, bringing back memories.

_ She was sweating, her dazzling skin covered with shining beads of sweat. The perspiration spread to the rest of her bloated, stretched-out body, and she screamed as yet another spasm conversed from her lower abdomen. _

_ "Almost there, Mrs. Coulter," said a soft, low voice. _

_Locking eyes with the doctor's, Mrs. Coulter very much wanted to believe him. As he smiled at her, holding her hand and stroking it gently, she wanted to trust that the excruciating pain that was childbirth was merely a fabrication of her imagination. Squeezing his hand back, a small smile twitching at the corner of her still ruby red lips, she wanted to believe that this doctor was there for her and her alone, marveling in the softness of her hand and the glimmer of her gaze._

_But as yet another contraction spurred from the very pit of her womanhood, Mrs. Coulter remembered why she was there. More pain than fathomable elapsed from her lower body, and as the doctor cheered and urged her along, pressing her hand even harder as she screamed and yelled while instinctually pushing, the event that is new life began to slide into existence._

_With a final shove and attempt for peace and relief, Mrs. Coulter felt as though all of the pain and misery of her life was catapulted out of her._

_A baby's cry echoed into her ears, and a wide, triumphant smile glistened off the doctor's lips. Her head falling back to the soft, plushy pillow, Mrs. Coulter heard the rustle of footsteps and the folding of a blanket before the now intimate scream of a child. Lifting her head up, panting from the effort, Mrs. Coulter saw the shining green eyes of the doctor and then the smallest of figures that made her heart skip a beat._

"_Meet your daughter, Mrs. Coulter," the doctor crooned, passing along the pink bundle. Her lips parting in a gasping laugh, Mrs. Coulter reached out and took the figure, gazing down on its features. She saw Asriel, but she saw herself as well._

_And at that moment, the smallest shuffle of the tiniest of childish footprints stamped themselves securely over her heart._

"There, there, darling," said Mrs. Coulter, her voice directed towards the little girl yet her eyes trained on the intense face of her daughter. "Your mother is closer than you've ever thought, and she loves you more than you will ever know."

_What are you doing? _fumed the golden money, his lithe tail curling tightly around Mrs. Coulter's left foot. _Why do I feel so guilty and determined yet anguished and defeated?_

"I don't know," Mrs. Coulter murmured, dropping her gaze to meet that of the little girl's, which was haunted yet hopeful as she continued to stroke the child's flat, lifeless hair. "I really don't know."

As she stood there, lost in the own pits of her heart, a shadow crossed behind her and then vanished before attracting any kind of attention. Strong, purposeful paws lightly scraped the carpet of the flooring, and amongst the midst of the children's jabbers and wails, the lowest tint of a growl could be heard.


End file.
